


Things Left Unsaid

by HisAngelThursday



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Has a Lot of Feelings and Doesn't Know How to Deal With Them, Episode: s11e23 Alpha and Omega, M/M, Mutual Pining, One Night Stands, SUFFER WITH ME, Self-Loathing, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-25 17:11:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7541089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HisAngelThursday/pseuds/HisAngelThursday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam couldn’t possibly know.  He couldn’t know how much Dean had mulled over all the times, real and imagined, that he’d let Cas down.  All the ways he’d planned on making it up to him, if and when they ever got him back again.  All the things he’d say, all the confessions he’d make.  </p>
<p>But now?  Now that Cas was in the car with him, safe and sound (well, apart from the little matter of the world being about to end), gleefully devil free, and most importantly, without of an audience, Dean couldn’t think of a single goddamned thing to say.  </p>
<p>Now how was that for a cruel irony?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things Left Unsaid

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my Tumblr.

No one could ever possibly know how many times Dean had pictured this moment. Not even Sam, who over the course of the past few months, had developed a Pavlovian response to say, “We’ll get him back, Dean,” every time Dean so much as looked in his direction.

But Sam couldn’t possibly know. He couldn’t know how much Dean had mulled over all the times, real and imagined, that he’d let Cas down. All the ways he’d planned on making it up to him, if and when they ever got him back again. All the things he’d say, all the confessions he’d make. 

But now? Now that Cas was in the car with him, safe and sound (well, apart from the little matter of the world being about to end), gleefully devil free, and most importantly, without of an audience, Dean couldn’t think of a single goddamned thing to say. Now how was that for a cruel irony?

Dean had taken every precaution. He’d even guzzled a few beers to loosen his nerves a little, before taking Cas out to buy more liquor (that they already had plenty of to begin with). 

But nothing helped. The words he’d rehearsed so carefully, straight out of one of those chick flicks Dean secretly loved so dearly, had evacuated his mind. 

Now all he was left with was a blank whiteboard for a brain, the seemingly unattainable object of his affections in the passengers’ seat, and a droning silence full of things left unsaid. 

Dean had never been so frustrated in his life. He had to say something, dammit, or one of them was going to explode again.

Taking a shallow breath, he prepared himself to speak, unsure as to what would come out when he did. 

Their conversation was…anticlimactic. It wasn’t disastrous – if anything, it was their version of small talk, full of references of recent satanic possessions and whatnot. 

As it progressed, Dean fumbled towards what he’d wanted to say all along, but it danced maddeningly out of his reach, taunting him with his own inadequacy. Everything he said seemed to come out just a little off the mark. 

*You’ve been there since the beginning, Cas. You’ve stood by me at my worst and my cruelest, and never complained once.*

That’s what he was THINKING, anyway. What came out instead was, “But you’re always there, y’know?”

*Nice going, Winchester,* Dean thought grimly. *Making him sound like a goddamn stray cat now.*

This was ridiculous. He’d waited months for this moment, and now he was chickening out? Dean gathered his nerves to say something, three little words he’d wanted to say for years now. 

Then, something happened. Memories flooded him, like his life flashing before his eyes, only worse. Memories of times with Cas. The best ones and the worst ones, the ones that reminded him why he could never, ever have him.

He remembered the years of frustration he’d felt in Cas’s presence, angry that the angel stirred up feelings and desires in him he’d worked so hard to repress. He was more attracted to Cas than to any woman he’d ever been with – hell, he couldn’t even get himself off anymore without Cas invading his thoughts – and it made him angry. 

He remembered how many times he’d taken that anger out on Cas, putting him down and snapping at him, and not even knowing he was doing it till later.

He remembered purgatory, those long nights he’d spent cuddled up against him (“For warmth,” he’d claimed). Benny, the uncomfortable third wheel, had thankfully replied, “I’m fine over here, thanks,” when Cas had suggested he join them.

He remembered telling Cas to leave the bunker when he was at his most vulnerable, and the long nights that had followed, spent staring at the ceiling and wondering if he’d made the right choice, wondering where Cas was, if he was alright, if he was anywhere resembling happy. 

He remembered that night after Cas’s disastrous would-be date – one that Dean was secretly shamefully glad had failed – when he’d confessed to Dean that he had no place to say. Dean had felt awful. But as much as he’d wanted to bring him back to the bunker with him right then and there, Dean knew (or at the time, thought he knew) he couldn’t. Not without risking Sam’s life to do it. 

So, Dean did the next best thing. He got him the Honeymoon Suite at a local hotel. Or, more accurately, he’d gotten THEM the Honeymoon Suite at a local hotel. 

When Dean had crawled into bed with him, shirtless and just slightly tipsy from the hotel’s minibar, he’d thought he was doing him a favor, giving him some good experience with sex after that bitch of a reaper exploited him just weeks prior.

Oh, it had ended up being so much more than that.

Dean remembered the way Cas had looked up at him then: with such pure reverence, like he was looking at something sacred, and Dean had felt as though he could have drowned in those crystalline blue eyes. He remembered the way Cas had smelled: usually, he smelled faintly like lightning, but at the time, he smelled like cheap aftershave and a slight musk that made Dean feel oddly feral. He remembered how soft and warm and human he’d been, and selfishly, Dean had wanted him to stay that way forever. 

To date, it may have been the best night he’d ever spent. So good that it took days for the guilt to catch up with him.

It was bad enough that Cas was a guy (or at least, something that looked like one) and after that day when he was sixteen years old, and John had caught him with that boy from school, well. Sufficed to say it wasn’t an experience he’d ever wanted to repeat.

But to his surprise, Dean was angry at himself for a different reason entirely: moral outrage. 

How dare he use Cas like that? How dare he use someone at such a vulnerable point in their lives? Especially, Dean thought grimly, after HE’D been the one to put him there to begin with.

So, Dean did what he was best at: he pretended it never happened. And Cas, by default, followed suit. That night was never talked about, never mentioned. The only difference between them was the fact that the awkward sexual tension they’d always shared had grown thick enough to cut with a butter knife, and even that Dean managed to ignore. 

It had been three years since that night, and Dean had just about convinced himself that it was nothing more than another wet dream.

The point was, Dean had had his shot to be with Cas. And he’d missed it. And by the looks of things, he’d probably hurt Cas with it, too, though of course, that had never been his intention. 

Of course, there were other things, too – for instance, he’d beat him within an inch of his life less than a year ago, and Mark of Cain or not, Dean knew he’d never quite forgive himself for that. 

Bottom line was, Dean was now certain he didn’t deserve Cas. And Cas surely deserved better than someone like Dean.

What he needed more than that, Dean decided, was a family. A brother. And that was something he was sure he COULD give him. 

“You’re our brother, Cas,” Dean concluded. “I want you to know that.”

Some things were just better off left unsaid.


End file.
